


Nightmares and Alcohol Therapy

by Rogueangelll



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, Domestic Issues, M/M, Mental Illness, Modern AU, Therapy, backstory/story told by character, fixing realistic problems, talk therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-22 07:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19662628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogueangelll/pseuds/Rogueangelll
Summary: Hamilton talks to his therapist about his boyfriend’s alcohol abuse.





	Nightmares and Alcohol Therapy

"What are you doing here today, Mr. Hamilton? What are your goals in seeing me?"

Hamilton shifted uncomfortably in his seat and didn't make eye-contact. "My boyfriend wanted me to go."

"For what reason?"

"I haven't really been doing good lately, I kinda am, like, depressed I guess...? It's not like I'm just sad all the time, I'm just not happy. And I've been having nightmares a lot, and usually I just can't sleep or sometimes I'll sleep too much. And John—he's always right there for me when he can be—but he's not the healthiest himself and it makes it difficult for him to be a better person when I'm not being a good boyfriend.That, um, came out wrong," he said, then rephrased, "it's just that we both need to be better people to make sure our relationship stays intact, and so it's like, effort from both of us."

The therapist rubbed his chin and tilted his head slightly. "You seem to have a lot of worries."

"I guess you could say that."

"What sorts of things is your boyfriend trying to be better with? To be healthy?"

Hamilton rubbed his arms as if to comfort himself. "He quit drinking a couple months or so ago. It got to be a real problem for him, for me, too."

"Tell me more about his drinking problem. What did he drink? What was he like when he drank?"

"Well, um, he started drinking about a year ago-ish. It wasn't a lot at first. We've always liked to get drunk now and again and have fun, go out to clubs or bars. It was never an issue. We went with friends and neither of us ever drove. We would take a taxi back to our apartment. But then I got caught up with things and I couldn't just go out and be irresponsible anymore. John didn't really go out as much, he just drank at home after work. It was never a problem for me, so I never really got why he got the way he did. Like, we lived the same way, hung out with the same people, essentially worked the same jobs just in different offices... I never had to worry about getting addicted to alcohol because it just never... it never was there for me, y'know?"

The doctor was writing down things. Tense, Hamilton tried to relax. He just continued to go on to fill the silence.

"He drank beers. And then six months or so ago it got bad enough to where he was drinking hard alcohol like vodka—which I never got either, I think vodka is disgusting as it is—and he would sometimes be so drunk that he didn't even remember what he did or said the night before. And it got scary, y'know? Like I felt like... like I was losing him." Hamilton stared at the floor, horrified with himself and seemingly out of touch with reality. "I was losing the man I love and I hated it. I started smoking and between the alcohol and the cigarettes, everything was just so expensive and stressful... and I woke up constantly with nightmares, in cold sweat because I had dreams where I lost him, or I lost myself and left him alone."

"Can you recall a specific nightmare?"

"Um... I remember one really well. I had one where I was in a burning house. I was just stuck there, drunk or high or something, unable to move. I could hear somebody yelling for me. I was there and I could feel myself suffocating... it hurts to even think about. Like I couldn't get out, I just kept stumbling around unable to see clearly and my body felt heavy. I wanted to scream but I couldn't, and I tried to find help but couldn't. And I woke up, felt like I was... dead or something, and John wasn't in bed with me, and I started to cry, I dunno. I just... cried. And I got up and went to the kitchen to make some food for myself 'cause I was scared to go back asleep, and I saw John there on the couch with his stupid bottle of vodka, passed out. I started to cry again. I ignored the food and I went to go sit down next to him. I sat on the floor by the couch."

"Did he wake up?"

"Not at first," Hamilton whispered distantly. 

When it was made clear that Hamilton was done talking about that particular instance, Dr. McHenry asked another question. "When did you say that John quit drinking?"

"Two months ago."

"What motivated him to quit?"

"Well, actually... after that night with the really bad nightmare, when I sat on the floor by the couch, I did wake him up. I was still crying, but a part of me was really, really mad at him. Like, how dare he risk losing me like that, how dare he not be there to save me from my dream. And he was on his back, the way he fell asleep, like he could have choked on his vomit and I could have found him in the morning, dead. He wouldn't have even... been there, sober, for his last moments. And I got to thinking, y'know, how many nights have I gone to bed without him?—and without thinking to check up on how much he's had to drink—if he needed anything. Maybe if I had just told him ‘no' and taken the bottle. I don't know. 

"But I had to shake him a lot to get him to wake up. And the bastard woke up drunk, unsurprisingly. He saw me crying in the dark and it was like, like he didn't even care. He just let me cry. He just laid on the couch and didn't care that I was angry with him, that I missed him. He looked so... dazed. And I was thinking that maybe he never really did care about me, that everything was just a lie and that I meant nothing to him. 'Cause if I meant something then surely he'd comfort me, even drunk.

"It felt so surreal. I got up on my knees and I grabbed his leg. I buried my face in his lap and begged him to care about me. I begged him to stay. Like I've done before."

"Before?" the doctor asked. "You've begged him to stay before?"

"I—well, a few times. During arguments. I begged him not to leave once 'cause things got pretty bad. We both were sober then, it was a long time ago and still pretty early on. There was this thing with his ex, and I said a lot of awful things to him. Most of them were true, but it was just that I was angry because he told me that he never had any serious relationships before me, but then I found out that he used to have this thing with this girl— granted it was in high school, it was so long ago, but he told me a bunch of bullshit about why he was texting her then—five years later—and I went through his messages and found out that he was talking to her because she told him about how she got an abortion senior year, and how it was going to be his baby. 

"And John was so torn up about it and didn't even know. But he wasn't even into her, he told me it was a mistake and that he tried... experimenting, y'know, whatever, because he didn't want to be gay. And so she finally found him on whatever website and talked to him. It came up in the texts and it was awkward, God, so awkward, but she told him about the abortion. About how she hid it from her parents too because she was embarrassed and scared. And I mean, it was really sad, but I was angry because John lied to me instead of just explaining it. Not even the full story, I wouldn't have asked really, but I deserved at least as explanation for his obsessive texting to his ex, right?"

"Did he threaten to leave because of that?"

"Yeah..." Hamilton whispered, now thinking in sorrow again. "Like I said, I yelled at him a bunch and he yelled back, and eventually I made a stupid comment about him running back to his ex and playing Daddy to some poor girl that he basically made get an abortion... even though it wasn't his fault because he didn't know, and he also said they used protection and he didn't remember it breaking. But I was being an ass, and he told me that he would leave. He was even grabbing his bag and everything and I just... I had to get him to stay. I was angry, yeah, but even though it was before either of us said 'I love you' or whatever, a part of me knew I loved him and knew that I couldn't let him leave over something stupid."

"Did it take much convincing?"

"No, not really, I mean... I just told him how I felt, and how I was angry about him not being honest but also sorry because I knew I was wrong, and that I didn't want him to leave over something so stupid. 'Cause I said: he's my best friend in the whole world, and that if he left I wouldn't know what to do. That as his boyfriend I would promise to do better and not get upset over stupid things. I also said that since we're dating we have to make an effort, y'know, not just leave because we're angry. He said he wouldn't leave after the first part when he saw how upset I was, but I kept rambling anyway like I had to convince him or something. Even though he was hugging me, too, I still explained it."

"So, why do you think that he doesn't care for you when he was intoxicated that night you had the nightmare?”

"He just was unresponsive and cold... like if he cared about me, then he'd somehow be sober.That night I yelled at him and I filled up a cup of cold water and threw it at him to try to get him to wake up more, maybe make him less drunk and hangover-like, but it just made him mad.He stood up and yelled at me and told me I only fuck things up, and that I never do anything for him.He said I act more like his nit-picky dad than his boyfriend and that he... um, he couldn't stand to be with me... a-and I knew it was just the irrationality and the alcohol and the anger, but it r-really hurt.And I cried more and he told me to shut up, stop crying, and I told him I was just gonna leave a-at that point."Hamilton covered his eyes in an attempt to not cry, keep his voice steady.But his voice cracked as he said, rushed, "and I tried going to the bedroom, I-I don't know, to maybe get some clothes and my phone and stay at a friend's or something, but he grabbed me."

"He grabbed you, how?" Dr. McHenry asked, hiding the concern in his voice.Hamilton continued to shake as he tried to steady himself.He’d never told this story to anybody. 

"L-like, he grabbed my arm, and it wasn't hard like he didn't hit me or anything, it's just that he grabbed me and said not to leave, 'cause he said he didn't want me driving and getting h-hurt.So I told him, 'John, I haven't been drinking' and he didn't believe me.I don’t know why.He was drunk, and yet he thought I was... He seemed less mad, just irritated and confused, and asked me to just go to bed.I-I told him only if he came to bed too but he wouldn't.He laid on the couch on his side and hugged the empty bottle.I didn't go to bed.I couldn't.I slept on the floor, the nasty floor. And I laid there, pretty much awake the whole night 'cause every time I did fall asleep, I'd jerk awake with, like, not nightmares, but just sudden fears. 

"Um... anyway, the next morning, when John was finally awake and sobered up—relatively, that is, because he had a hangover—I got up too and I made coffee. I felt so miserable, not getting any sleep and spending most of the night just, a mess, y'know, and I gave John his coffee, and I drank my own. He wasn't upset anymore. He was irritated, yeah, but that was 'cause of the headache plus he's not a morning person anyway. I said to him, 'So, do you remember last night at all?' and he didn't. He got worried for a second, I could tell. So I explained to him what happened. He was like, 'Alex, I'm so, so sorry. Oh, my God.' And I could tell he really was sorry. And I told him why I woke him up, about my dream, and he had to sit down.

"I sat next to him," Hamilton continued shakily, "and I took his hand and I didn't know what to say so I kind of just held onto him. He didn't move, or really react at all. I told him that he needed to stop drinking. He said he couldn't. I said, 'You need to go to AA, because we can't live like this anymore.' I told him that I hated seeing him like this. I said that if he didn't stop then he was gonna lose me because I couldn't live with him being drunk all the time. And that I love him, that I don't want to see him get hurt."

"Hmm... and how did he respond?"

"He was upset, but mostly sad. But he eventually promised to go to AA meetings. I went with him sometimes just to support him. I dumped out all the alcohol in our apartment, too. He's been so much better ever since, even though it was hard for him, and he got really sick because he didn't even cut back at first, he just quit cold turkey. The withdrawals for him were really bad, sometimes they still are. I worried a lot about him when he had withdrawal, y'know, he had shivers and was puking and still went to work. He looked terrible... but he said he's glad he did it. I am, too."

Dr. McHenry nodded slowly. "Would you say that you communicate well? It sounds to me like you have done well with getting through your issues."

"Well..." he trailed off slightly, embarrassed. "I wouldn't say we communicate badly, it's just not 100% there. He gets frustrated, doesn't know how to express himself, and then I get upset because I don't get him. But I love him, I do, and we promised a little over a year ago that we wouldn't let petty arguments split us up. We made that promise a year-ish after the whole ex-girlfriend abortion thing. We, like, did this stupid 'pinky promise' thing or whatever and everything. That's how we knew we were probably in it for the long run, 'cause we had rules sort of, and because we were living together and working out things like a real couple, instead of how it used to be when we both were mostly immature and didn't know how relationships worked." He laughed bitterly at the distant memory. 

"We promised never to go to bed in the middle of an argument," he went on, "and never leave during an argument. Like, except maybe sometimes when it was just easier to take a breather, and one of us would go stay with a friend or whatever. But that's really only happened once or twice, and we promised not to leave spontaneously. It was more of a, 'sit down, talk, this is what we're going to do' kind of agreement before either of us left. I don't like being away from him, though. Yeah, it's good to take small breaks, but I don't like avoiding him. Like, pretending like I don't even know him. It hurts to be away. Not just— not right now, not like that, it just hurts to be away from him when I have to think that maybe he doesn't want to talk to me, maybe he doesn't want to see me again and maybe he doesn't want to be with me, y'know?" Hamilton suddenly cringed, realizing how often he had been interjecting with, "like"s and "y'know"s. He went on anyway, trying to pick his words more carefully.

"I get worried when we're in a fight and then don't talk. I'm always scared he might leave," Hamilton whispered.

The therapist sighed, studying Hamilton for a while. "Does your boyfriend know you feel this way?"

"I don't know, maybe. I kind of tell him but mostly I don't talk about it. And he tells me all the time that he loves me, that he won't just leave, that he doesn't want to hurt me and that he's sorry about his drinking.And it wasn't that stupid, cliché, "I promise I'll change" and he never does, he actually changed.He made that change, for me, and I'm still here addicted to nicotine and crying from nightmares."

"What are the recent nightmares like?"

"I don't know. It's kind of like I can't remember the details, but I know they're there, and I have this sickly feeling every time I'm awake. It's just fear. I'm not even necessarily sadness—I'm just afraid. It feels like I lose him. I keep having dreams that I lose him, and it hurts."

"What does John do when you wake up like that?"

"Well, it's not like he can do anything most of the time.If I'm awake but he's not then I let him sleep.But if he is awake then he comforts me, like a good boyfriend does.He's always been there for me as much as he can and I love him, but it's so... so hard, to—" he groaned in frustration as he tried to sputter out words, "used to be really hard to want to keep going sometimes, but then I met John and it was like he was a literal angel.Even though he's like, the opposite sometimes, he's my angel.He's my reason for living.I feel like I'm betraying him when I die in my dreams.Like he gives me all these reasons to want to stay and then I feel guilty because I still want to go."

"Are you suicidal?"

Hamilton thought carefully before answering.He answered honestly."I don't want to die," he mumbled, "but I know a part of me does.Why would I dream about dying so often if a little bit of me didn't want to?"

Dr. McHenry rubbed his chin. "It's a normal feeling occasionally," he began, "although it becomes a problem when its repetitive. Have you ever told John that you feel guilty?"

"No.I don't want him to be mad."

"Do you believe he would be mad if you told him?"

"...No," he said truthfully, "no, I don't.It's just... I don't want him to be sad.Since I wouldn't tell him why I'm not myself lately, he said I should go to therapy or whatever; at least for one session.And it wasn't like, pushy, he was just worried about me.And I said I was willing to go."

"Would you consider a follow-up appointment, maybe with John in the room as well, by your side?If you'd like I could also find a family therapist that would help you both work out any tensions you can't work out yourself."

"Like a marriage counselor?"

"Of sorts."

"But John and I aren't married."

"Do you want to get married?" he asked.

Hamilton sputtered."W-well, someday, of course.That's the whole point of being in a long-term relationship, right?Like, we're doing this 'cause we plan to stay together.Get married someday.Obviously we have issues but it's nothing unfixable, right?I love him.Jeez, I don't even know how that'd work, though.I can sort of imagine settling down with him... but it always felt like a fantasy to me.Plus we're both still really young.We've only been dating a few years.We're not even thirty yet.God, I dunno.But if couple's therapy will help us so we stay together for a long time, f-forever, then I think it's a good idea."He stopped when he realized he was rambling.

"Do you have anything else you'd like to discuss?How about your family?"

He squirmed uncomfortably."I don't really have anybody... I have my friends and I have John, but my, um, mom died, and my dad left when I was really young.My brother is older and he's God-knows-where, my half-brother hates me, and my cousin killed himself.Jesus, it's just a mess, so I don't like talking about it.I just... Yeah.So my friends and John are all I have."

"Can you describe your apartment and day-to-day life to me, Mr. Hamilton?"

• • •

Hamilton nervously stepped out of the therapist's office and walked to the window to check out, or sign in, or whatever—he wasn't quite sure how these things worked—and waited as the office lady asked him about follow ups, yadda yadda.He glanced across the waiting room and made eye-contact with Laurens, who half-smiled at him and put away his phone.Hamilton hurriedly finished up and made his way to Laurens, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"How was it?" Laurens whispered as they walked outside.

"It was actually pretty good.Do I look like I've been crying?" Hamilton asked, standing on his toes in front of his boyfriend.Laurens pecked his forehead.

"You look handsome."

"I didn't ask if I look bad, I asked if I look like I've been crying."

"Maybe a little..."

Hamilton playfully hit his arm and grinned."Knew it.Ew.Feelings."

"Do you wanna get some lunch?"

Hamilton smiled and nodded.Laurens took out his phone to call a car but paused when he felt Hamilton's hands on his back.Hamilton got on his toes again and pulled Laurens close.

"Hey," he said softly, "I love you."

"I love you, too." Laurens wrapped his arms around Hamilton's waist, trying to avoid looking obscene and instead just hugging him.

"Thank you for doing better," Hamilton said, "and for everything you've done for me."

"Alex..."

"Shh, seriously.I'm gonna do better, too, be there for you more, 'cause I wanna make sure this lasts for the long-run, 'cause I love you and I couldn't imagine ever being with anybody else— shit, I'm rambling, but seriously, thank you."He combed his fingers through Laurens' hair."I love you."

"Lex... you're okay..." he whispered, rubbing his back."I love you so much.I'm sorry about how I was before, and if I didn't show you that I love you when I was drunk, but hey, I'm here now.We're both doing better, right?I'm doing better.I will never, ever touch alcohol again if that's what it takes.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Laurens laughed slightly.He kissed the side of Hamilton’s face, squeezing the life out of him.“I’m sorry for everything.”

“Yeah... but I’m glad we’re doing okay, now. Hey,” he pulled away and looked up at Laurens, “Dr. McHenry said you could come and be with me at the next appointment.And he was talking about couple’s therapy and stuff, if we could ever afford that,” he joked.

“Do you want me in the room next time?”

“Yeah.I think it would be a good way to be, like... open.”

“Okay.Then I’ll come along next time.”

Hamilton stared at Laurens for a moment, smiling. He felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was happy. He loved Laurens. He just... was happy it was all working out. 

“John?”

“Mm?”

“I—” his breath caught.What was he going to say, again? 

Oh, yeah.

“J, I'm so in love with you.Like, disgustingly, madly in love.I’m proud of you and I want to stand by your side always.I don’t know where I’m going with this, but I love you.Everything that’s happened, it’s only made us stronger.I’ve never felt so secure in my life.I know—I’m just restating what I’ve said a million times.I’m predictable and unimaginative.”He scoffed.“But I’m honest.”

"I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because alcohol addiction is a very real and common issue in families. It doesn’t always come in the form of a physically abusive parent, either (although that is just as likely).  
> Often times, alcohol abuse comes in the form of a depressed or despondent loved one. You may not even realize they are alcoholics unless you are around them frequently enough.  
> Parents, siblings, cousins, friends, partners—anybody can struggle with addiction. 
> 
> I didn't realize I had parents with alcohol addiction until I stepped back and thought about it.
> 
> Those were unbelievably awful and dark times for me.
> 
> Don't wait. If you or somebody you know is struggling with addiction, make a call; hold an intervention; talk to them 1-on-1.
> 
> For more info about addiction and some alcohol abuse hotlines, see here:
> 
> https://drugabuse.com/library/alcohol-abuse-hotlines/


End file.
